


Pretending

by BearlyMadeIt



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chaos, Dark Past, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Family Fluff, First Dates, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lies, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pretending to be Human, Secrets, Slow Burn, Somewhat romantic at times, Still brooding about the title, Swordfighting, Teacher Jaskier | Dandelion, complicated past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyMadeIt/pseuds/BearlyMadeIt
Summary: Already being an hour late for the stupid teacher-parent talk, Geralt jolts himself out of his car, only to stop, eyes wandering along his hunting armor. He couldn't go in like that.All that blood.Trying his best to be a good dad, while juggling work and 'work', a young, hyperactive teacher who wants to meet every five minutes is the least Geralt needs. He's busy enough, thank you very much. Damn humans.A modern AU, where Geralt is still monster-hunting while trying his best to appear normal.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 27
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

Ducking away under its claws, Geralt stepped back, again and again, dodging each of the monster's attacks. When he felt his back hit a tree, he let the claws come closest, ducked and rolled away at the very last possible second, never leaving the monster out of sight. It did the same. Turned its head, eyes glued to him, hissing angrily, one clawed paw ripped free already, wood splinters flying through the air. The witcher smirked, got back onto his feet at the end of his roll, swung his sword, and groaned-coughed-cursed all at the same time when a spray of hot, black blood hit his face, his upper body, until the thing finally dropped to the ground, blood still sipping out of it.

He scoffed and spit out, wiping his eyes. "Can't even die without a mess." He grunted and stared at the now fresh corpse. The only way he liked monsters. Sighing, he grabbed it, pulled it along behind him through the woods, until he reached the parking lot. Slipping into his car, not minding his bloodied clothes, he rummaged through the glove compartment, staring at the few potions he came up with. Didn't he have another dissolving one? He was certain he had. But even a second search of the compartment didn't yield any other result. He was running out of potions.

"Fuck." He breathed, turning his head to stare at the monster, which waited right outside his car for its inevitable dissolving. What should he do with it if he couldn't get rid of it? He couldn't just leave it here.

Yet, Geralt already knew what he had to do, even though he loathed the mere idea of it. Take it along, mix the potion at home, get rid of it later on. Exhaling annoyed, he got up, dragged the thing around his car, and stuffed it into his trunk. Hopefully, he would get the blood out.

While waiting at a red light, his fingers drumming against the driving wheel, his communication thing started its text music, demanding his attention. Grumbling some more, he fished it out of the glove compartment, right beside his dwindling potions, and stared at the message his daughter had sent him.

_Do you like Jaskier? He is awesome, isn't he? What did he say?_

What?

Geralt stared at the electronic words for far too long, honking ripping him out of it eventually. Always so un-patient. He scoffed again, dropped the communication thing on the empty seat beside him, hit the gas, and – "Fuck." – remembered.

Jaskier.

Ciri's new teacher.

The guy had invited everyone – politely asking and not asking, in fact demanding – to meet up with him. Talk with the parents. To get the whole picture or something like that.

Muttering, Geralt switched lanes, turned right.

Reaching the school five past nine, his time slot should have been around an hour ago, he got out of the car, only to stop instantly, his gaze moving along his hunting armor.

He couldn't go in like that. Especially the blood would raise questions, even though humans might as well confuse it with mud. Very liquid mud. He debated just going in, but – another curse – he decided against it. Good first impression and all that bullshit.


	2. Chapter 2

Opening the door to the classroom, Geralt found the new teacher in the process of leaving, currently stuffing papers into his bag. The man looked up at him with a questioning gaze, eyes moving along him. Had he missed some blood spots? He had given his all to get himself clean, but -

"What do you want?" He asked.

"Ehm… I'm Cirilla's father. Got stuck at work."

Jaskier's lips formed a silent 'Oh'.

"Mister Rivers, right?" No comment about black spots? Good.

"Please, call me Geralt."

"Jaskier." Returned Jaskier, daring a smile, while gesturing towards the chair opposite of his, only the desk between them.

Geralt did his best to smile back while taking the seat. Humans liked smiles.

"Sooo, Geralt... Does that happen regularly? You getting stuck at work?"

"From time to time. Sometimes, I feel like it's trying to eat me alive."

Jaskier chuckled softly, obviously believing he was making jokes.

"What about Ciri?"

"Got a few babysitters. Someone always has time."

Jaskier nodded absentmindedly, found himself a new page in one of his notebooks, and clicked his pen. Following were a dozen and some more questions about his little girl, followed by a report of her behavior in school, followed by...

"She is really talented in music." Jaskier said, finally finishing his progress report.

"Is she?"

"Yes. My main subject is music and… Anyway, I think she could really benefit from learning an instrument. Could suggest some teachers, if you are interested. Maybe get her into advanced music lessons."

"Hm."

"Maybe the violin?"

Geralt didn't reply, just stared at the man. Why did he care? The former teacher hadn't cared. Or hadn't thought of bothering him. Not that he wasn't interested, he wanted the best for his little girl, but…

"I'll think about it." He replied eventually, watching the man smile happily. Why the fuck did he care so much?

"Well, then…" He said, wanting to get up.

"Oh, wait."

He stopped.

"Could I get your mobile number? In case something comes up."

He stared at him for a few long seconds once again. Why? What should come up?

"Sure." He said, hoping the man wouldn't come up with any more questions, while he searched his communicator thing. It wasn't in his pockets where it usually was. Had he –

"Oh." He knew where it was. "Forgot it in the car."

"Give me a second and I'll accompany you."

Seriously?

But he gave him a second and then got followed to his car. On the way, Jaskier tried to do _small talk_. As if he was following the latest music groups, football games, or technology crazes. Yet, reminding himself to make a good first impression, Geralt participated. Somewhat. Mostly by saying "Hm." and nodding at the right times.

As soon as they reached his car, Geralt ducked in, getting his 'mobile phone' and searched for his number. He watched Jaskier add it. A smile followed, which he returned, hoping it didn't look too forced. Ciri always said his smiles ranged from actually sweet to downright horrible.

"Ehm… Your car is leaking." Jaskier said suddenly.

Geralt frowned, turned, and found a black puddle beneath his trunk.

"Ff…" his gaze moved to the man beside him. "Damn it." He sighed.

Jaskier chuckled. "You can curse all you want. I could take a look if you want to. Fixed my car myself back in college. Maybe I see -"

"I'll just get it fixed tomorrow." Geralt interrupted. The least he needed was his daughter's teacher to open his trunk. Best of luck, he would just freak out. Worst of luck, he would believe he had murdered someone and call the police and he refused to even think about that mess.

"Well, then." Again, a smile. Why did the guy smile so much? "Good luck. Hope it's not too bad. Last time I went to get my car checked it was a disaster. Sketchy mechanic." He shook his head amused. "Have a nice… night and greet Ciri from me, okay? I'll send you the contact details of some music teachers later or maybe tomorrow."

"Sure." Even though he really wanted to just hum. He had talked way too much already and he hadn't even entertained his daughter yet. "Have a good night as well." He added still, remembering the etiquette just in time. Another damn smile and then the teacher (finally) left. Geralt looked after him with a frown. The guy had his number now.

\----

Opening yet another door, he slipped out of his shoes, dropped his car keys where they belonged, and entered his living room, finding Ciri and Anne, her babysitter, watch the Disney movie with lots of ice.

"Daaaaad!" Ciri squealed, jumped up, and ran to hug him, or rather to jump at him. He caught her, twirled her around playfully, and settled her on his hip, holding her securely. Her giggle was right in his ear.

"Hey, little one." He greeted softly.

She beamed back at him, not wasting another second to start her barrage of questions.

"What do you think of him? He is really awesome, isn't he? What did he say about me? Was there anything bad? Why are you coming home so late? Did something happen? At work maybe? Or did you talk so long about me? Oh god, if you talked so long, something must be up. I swear I can do better!"

"He was nice, I guess." Just talked too much. "He suggested you learn the violin." He said while walking them back to the couch, feeling Anne's amused gaze.

"The violin?" Ciri turned quiet for a long moment. "Could I maybe get a piano instead?" Right before he could settle them on the couch, Geralt stopped to stare at her. "You really are into music?"

She shrugged, looking oddly embarrassed.

"Why didn't you…" But he didn't even need to end the question. She hadn't dared to. He really wasn't a music guy. "You can talk with me about anything. You know that, right?"

She hummed in a very Geralt-like fashion and stayed quiet for so long, he didn't even expect an answer anymore. He settled on the couch, holding her on his knees, and greeted Anne, listening to her talking about their day. What they had done, what they had eaten, her helping Ciri with her homework…

"Thought you'd think it's stupid." Ciri stated quietly all of a sudden.

Geralt frowned, looking at his daughter. Well, it was. He couldn't kill anything with music. Except for his nerves. "It isn't." He replied nonetheless, ruffling her hair. A piano…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff before I'll embark on more monster hunting. Or attempted monster hunting. Thanks, Jaskier.

Leaning against the door frame of Ciri's room, Geralt watched her with a tiny, loving smile. Listened to her calm and steady breathing. She was definitely asleep, hugging her small stuffed lion. Of course, she would never admit to it when awake. She didn't need stuffed animals anymore, damn it. She was way too old for that! And still, the little thing somehow ended in her arms most nights.

 _Why music?_ Geralt wondered with a little sigh, closing her door carefully. Why couldn't she be into anything else? Any variant of fighting styles would be fine with him. He could read up on those and help her, or rather teach her. Or maybe history, with him having lived through most of it. Or even try and see if she could do signs. But music? Be damned. All it did was remind him of a certain bard and his stupid songs and he didn't want to think about those things. Only made him nostalgic for times long gone.

Still, he got his tablet and settled on the couch, slowly researching pianos, the frown on his face deepening. Every damn page came up with a new sly of words, another list of important points, a new top ten altogether. The kind of wood, the tone, if he wanted an upright or grand piano, or maybe a digital one, or…

Putting the thing down with an annoyed sigh, he rubbed his eyes. How was it possible to know lesser the more he read? That wasn't what researching should do! Why couldn't it be straightforward? Like killing monsters. Kill or be killed. Simple. Not only kill the monster when the autumn wind blew from north-east during a full moon after an owl had hooted three times. Even though a curse may ask for exactly those specifics.

Geralt's frown deepened and he shook his head when he realized he had just compared pianos to curses. A damn good start. This could only get - Enough of music! Listening for Ciri's breath to make sure she was still asleep, he slipped into his shoes and left the house. On his way to his car, he threw a glance around, but everything was calm and quiet. No light turned on. Everyone was seemingly asleep. The only pro of moving into the damn suburbs, with people always smiling and watching, and hissing cats behind their back. People were actually asleep at certain times. Well, and Ciri's school was somewhat close.

Opening his trunk, he grunted annoyed when he saw the mess the monster had made. His poor car. Why had it bled so much? He had merely…

Pushing the thought aside, together with the next one which concerned cleaning the fucking mess, he grabbed the by now rigid carcass, holding it somewhat awkwardly, and carried it inside. Then it was down into the basement and break some bones to fit it into his extra freezer.

Afterward, after getting his gear and locking his car again, backtracking through the house to make sure there were no stray bloodspots, and taking a very long and perfectly warm shower, he dropped onto his couch, closing his eyes with a tiny, relaxed sigh.

He had to clean his gear. Especially his sword. Monster blood was always so… so…

The dissolving potion was even more important. He should get up, gather his herbs, and...

But Geralt just took a breath, inhaled the smell of the soap and the shampoo he had used, heard the quiet breath of his little girl, and drifted off to shallow sleep. _Sticky_ , ghosted through his barely awake mind. _Sticky music._

_\----_

Opening her eyes, Ciri jumped out of her bed. _Saturday!_ Breakfast with her dad and then cartoons with her dad and then get some details of the meeting with Jaskier out of him, hopefully, and then she would meet with Dara and –

"Goooood moorniiing!" She chirped while bounding down the stairs, still in her PJs. Her father gave the expected, not overly enthusiastic grunt.

"Can I get a hot chocolate?"

Another grunt, this time the affirmative kind, and she dashed off into the kitchen. Eyeing the pot on the stove, she chose to ignore it. For now. Their chocolate-and-coffee-machine was more important. Only after she had got it going, her cup filling up nice and slow, her curiosity got the better of her. Ciri turned around slowly, looking at the pot. Her dad was brewing again. Which meant he had run out of some of his potions, which meant... he had fought something yesterday, hadn't he? Before or after meeting with Jaskier? Would her teacher suspect - no. She had seen dad come home. He looked as normal as anyone, as far as he ever looked normal. Not-bloody or covered in she-didn't-want-to-know-but-asked-anyhow for sure. Which potion might be running out? The black-eye one? Had he fought something dangerous yesterday? Or maybe the dissolving one. Or was he just stacking up on healing ones for good measure?

She flinched when the machine behind her beeped. Her drink was ready. Grabbing her cup, she returned to the living room, watching her dad stare his tablet to death.

"Which one is it?" She asked, blowing on her drink.

"Dissolving one."

"Hmmm…" She tried to take a sip but didn't. Too hot still. "What did you fight?" And while she asked, because she could count two and two together, her eyes moved to stare into the direction of their basement door. Was it down there?

"Nothing interesting." Her dad replied vaguely, tapping around on his tablet.

"Was it dangerous?" she went on, not giving in.

He grunted.

"Oh, come on. Daaad? Please? Please, please, please?"

He kept quiet. Finally taking a sip, just a tiny bit too hot, she settled beside him. Staring at him with her pleading eyes. He didn't look at her, but she knew he could feel her gaze.

Come on…

Just a little…

"Please?"

Geralt exhaled, closed his eyes, made her hope sink. She had either won or wouldn't get another word out of him. The man was too stubborn for his own good. He could go on for hours ignoring one particular topic until she finally dropped it.

"It had claws. Happy?"

"A bit." She grinned happily and took another sip, her follow-up question already on her lips because she wouldn't just give up, damn no, she wanted details, when her gaze fell onto his tablet.

Her eyes widened in surprise, her mouth opening slightly. He was… he was… _googling pianos_. Her gaze shot up to his concentrated face, back to the tablet, and up to her dad again. Was he serious?! Was he really, really serious? Would she get a piano? All to herself?

She inhaled, ready to squeal, scream, both when her dad interrupted. "I'll send you to some music lessons first. See if you actually like it."

Ciri huffed in a very Geralt-like fashion. "Of course, I'll like it. Wouldn't ask otherwise."

"Want to be sure."

She huffed again, took a sip, and watched him put the tablet aside.

"Breakfast?"

Nice change of topic, dad.

"Scrambled eggs? With bacon!" Breakfast with dad was breakfast with dad. And then cartoons and - She would get a piano. _A fucking piano!_ Oooh, she had to tell Dara! Should she call him on the spot? Or better tell him in person? Was it weird she wanted to do both at the same time?


	4. Chapter 4

Hours later, while Geralt walked along the well-lit street to Dara's, he still had no clue about pianos. Unless knowing he didn't know shit was considered knowledge.

 _Why music?_ He wondered for the umpteenth time today, fully knowing it didn't matter. Ciri wanted the stupid piano and she would get the stupid piano. He could handle a bit of music. Couldn't be much worse than the TV running in the background or her CDs playing non-stop.

Sighing weakly, his thoughts returned to his bigger problem. What should he do about the piano? Pay someone for a consultation? Seemed a bit excessive. Just buy something? Would go equally well. Then again, couldn't he just go, point at the first piano he saw, and go with it? Would surely be okay for the beginning. Or he could rent something for starters and buy it if Ciri liked it down the line, or -

A rustling to his left made him stop, all his stupid worries simultaneously forgotten, leaving just a witcher staring down an alley. His eyes moved in search of something but all he saw was an alley with bushes to either side.

Continuing to stare with nothing happening, he frowned slowly. Why had he stopped? Why was he still staring? There was nothing. Just an alley and some stupid – the leaves of a bush halfway down the alley moved again. Geralt kept on staring, his eyes transfixed on the moving leaves, listening to the low sound. No wind. No scent of some stray animal, no cat nor dog nor squirrel. Nothing. And still…

Grunting darkly, so darkly that it nearly sounded like a growl – how could anything _dare_ to prowl around in his neighborhood? – Geralt moved, with all the speed he had. Expectedly, or at least somewhat expectedly, he collided with something solid when he reached the bush, threw it off balance, and watched it fall to the ground, flattening more bushes in the process. It hadn't even yelped. Inhaling, he still didn't smell anything out of the ordinary. The scent of leaves, of humans, of dirt. Nothing which said 'something invisible right ahead'.

"Show yourself." He growled, staring, not even blinking, but nothing turned visible. Grunting lowly, he jumped forward, heard it move again, frantic scrambling, grabbed the spot right beside him but got nothing. His lips formed a silent curse, while he brushed along the ground, his hands frantically moving, searching the thing he couldn't see. It couldn't be too far away. He had tackled it to the ground, damn it, had seen it, or at least its shape, pressing down the bushes. It had to be – his communicator thing started its text music. Geralt froze, heard how something moved under the disguise of the other sound, and stopped just in time.

Still close. So very close. Extending his hands, he expected to collide with it again, feel the solid something which couldn't be seen but got nothing.

"For fuck's sake." He muttered aloud, listening for further movements that could give it away, but again nothing. Just silence. Not even breathing. Only the distinct feeling of being watched.

Geralt didn't move. Simply kept his position, one knee on the ground, arms stretched out, hands on the ground, and listened. Waited. It had to move again. Or he could… he leaned forward, groped along the ground. It had to be – but before he could find it, he heard steps approach. Talking, words floating towards him, laughter.

"Fuck." He breathed out again, sounding way more annoyed than before, and got up. Smiled at the couple, who came walking down the main street. Some neighbors of his, who even waved at him to his horror. He waved back somewhat awkwardly, watched them leave, and turned around again, staring at the alley and its invisible inhabitant. He could continue to search for it. Stomp along every damn inch, and at some point, he would either scare it into moving or hit something solid. But… Geralt grunted. Hunting for something invisible was a waste of time. Maybe even more so than trying to grasp pianos. If it didn't move, and he didn't stumble upon it, he wouldn't find it, simple as that. Even worse, he still had to get Ciri. He couldn't just not pick her up in favor of stomping through an alley.

"I'll get you." He hissed grimly at whatever was hiding right in front of him. He would. Whatever he had to do, he would.

\----

Ringing the bell, he tried his best smile when Mrs. Gyles opened the door.

"Ah, Geralt." She smiled back at him.

"Hey." He greeted in turn.

She turned halfway, yelling up the stairs. "Ciri! Your dad is here!"

"Coming!" came from somewhere further in the house.

"Can I offer you something? A coffee? Something to eat? We have some cake left."

He did another smile. "Thanks, but no. I'm full."

Some perfectly awkward minutes of silence followed. He hated picking Ciri up but wouldn't ever not pick her up either. At least, Dara's mother didn't try to do small talk anymore. He guessed he had to be happy for the small victories.

(Finally) Ciri came bounding down the stairs, followed by Dara on her heels. The youngsters hugged as a goodbye, she hugged his mother briefly and slipped out the door.

"Hey." She grinned at him.

"Hey." He said oddly grim, mostly because he just wanted to grunt, but was very well aware of being watched. Judged. Maybe sorted from odd-dad into terrible-dad category. Raising his gaze, he smiled again and said his obligatory goodbye to the lady of the house.

"Had a nice day?" Geralt asked once they were on their way home, bracing himself for the ensuing storm of words, Ciri babbled what felt like forever non-stop. About the cartoons and shows they had watched, Dara having shown her his new game - something about controlling people and buying fancy furniture – endlessly chatting and, last but not least, her boasting about her future piano, because of course, she would.

"Dara asked again why I can't walk home alone." Ciri ended after what seemed like forever. He felt her gaze on him. Was only 15 minutes, after all. Every third grader could walk home alone.

"He doesn't know any better." Geralt replied like he always did. One day he wouldn't be able to say no anymore. One day he would have to let her go. But the thing in the bushes…

"I know." Ciri sighed, and linked their arms, making him smile. "I just wish I could tell him."

"Hm."

"I know." She repeated, sighing again. "He would think I'm crazy."

\----

After Ciri was vast asleep, Geralt was snuggled into his own bed, his communicator thing in hand, and scrolled down endlessly. Pictures upon pictures flew past his eyes, all sorts of people forever visible on that thing called internet.

Eventually, when he didn't find anything remotely interesting, he turned off the light, and – he stopped, staring at the rectangular thing in his hand. He still had that unread text message. He had completely forgotten about it after the alley and Ciri's very detailed report of how stupid the people in Dara's game were. One had apparently gotten stuck in a pool and wouldn't get out again. Completely without their doing, she tried to tell him, while grinning mischievously.

Exhaling slowly, he tapped the unread message and "Oh."

A list of music teachers. Jaskier. Ciri's odd new teacher.

He shook his head weakly and dropped his communicator somewhere beside him, closing his eyes.

But he just wouldn't fall asleep. His thoughts always returned to the thing in the alley, the rustling bush, the sound of movement, the stupid text message which had bought whatever it was precious seconds, and before long to pianos as well.

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, Geralt finally accepted he wouldn't fall asleep anytime soon. Sitting up, he yawned and grumbled. Stupid thoughts. Stupid worries. He grabbed his laptop, started it, and just stared blankly. What should he even do? Google was of no help when searching for invisible monsters. Too many myths, not even a third of them true, and more morons writing even more false stories. The internet was good for lots of things, but not if it concerned monsters. The only thing he could actually do... And thus, Geralt ended up researching pianos again, only to close his laptop and shove it aside with an angry grunt not even 20 minutes later. He wasn't of any use concerning damn music instruments. How should he even... He should get up, train a bit, and get his mind on other things (excluding invisible monsters). While climbing out of bed, his gaze ended up on his communicator.

The music teachers...

Fetching the rectangular thing, he carefully tapped the unknown number and began his slow-type.

_She wants a piano._

He hesitated, staring at his message. Did he really want to…

_Could need some help picking one._

And hit send. He didn't have anything to lose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This (damn) story had a sudden change of heart. I deleted the latest chapter and will upload something else somewhen along next week. Sorry for the inconvenience!


End file.
